Second Chances
by Becca Maddox
Summary: Arthur wants someone to care for again, and where's the best place to get that? Francis, of course. The famous FACE family gets together to welcome a new little one to the family, whom is commonly known as Arthur and Francis' Second Chance. Contains MPreg.
1. Chapter 1

This is a primarily FrUk fanfic. I own nothing except for a few of the future characters that haven't been introduced yet. This story does have other parings in it, such as GerIta, PruCan, Spamano, AusHus. Other pairings may be introduced later. This story has mature situations, and language. This includes MPreg, not only of England, but a few other characters as well, which will go with another fanfiction I am currently planning.

I consider this a joint fanfiction between **CrimsonRoseShadow **and myself. If anyone has any trouble, or can't reach me with anything considering the fanfiction, you can find her on here.

Now for the story.

-**Becca**

* * *

There was only a few things he missed. A tiny little person running up to him. Feeling the tiny little arms wrapping around him. Having someone who depended on him. Who came to him with their nightmares, wishing for him to take them away.

He missed having a child.

It had been years since his twins had moved out to have a hold on their own countries. It had been centuries since they needed him.

That was the best family he had ever had, even if the partnering wasn't great. An unfaithful partner, that he loved despite of that fact, was better than no partner it seemed. They had still been happy. Alfred and Mathew were always happy bundles of joy.

Until it all went wrong of course. When he and Francis had gone through a horrid break up, it quite literally left him broken, with two children to raise on his own. Yes, Francis came to visit every once and a while. Always with a new whore on his arm. Female or male. And he always left with no explanation to his children.

But, still those days were good ones. The two would always come to him with their troubles. But, that all stopped when they got older. When they left him too.

God, he needed a drink.

* * *

Arthur, in his drunken and confused state, could only find one answer. He needed to fuck Francis.

Yes, it wasn't how most embodiments came to be. Most of them just appeared. But, some did come from pregnancy, like the Italy twins had. And, yes, is was harder for male countries to become pregnant, but it was possible.

They were just embodiments, really they could do whatever they put their minds to. And right now, Arthur's was on getting another chance. Another child.

And he was going to get one. Francis was the closest. Closest to his home, and closest to his heart. Francis would understand. Hopefully.

But, as Arthur knocked loudly on the door, he didn't really care. Francis opened the door, and before the older country could get any words out, Arthur blurted, "I need you to have sex with me."

* * *

Francis raised an eyebrow, looking at the usually proper Englishman in front of him, "Arthur, are you drunk?" Watching the man wobbled a moment, he reached out to grab the other's shoulder, "Maybe you should come in, sleep it off."

Arthur nodded silently, following the older country into the home. The moment Francis' back was turned however, he hugged the many tightly, "Please, Francis."

The man stilled, turning his head to the drunken man's words, "_Mon ami_, I doubt when you've awoken from you're drunk illusion, you would not be very happy with me for taking such advantage of you."

"I would! I would be happy! I would be extremely happy, I promise you, Francis!"

Francis sighed, following along knowing that it was the only way to get past this, "And, may I ask, why would you be happy?"

"Because I want a baby," Arthur frowned when he felt Francis stiffen in his hug, "Don't worry! I can take care of them by myself. I've done it before, I can certainly do it again. I Just-"

Francis turned suddenly, silencing the rambling country, "I would never want you to go through that again! How dare you even suggest such a thing!"

Arthur immediately began rambling again, "The baby part isn't hard. Sure, the late nights are tiresome, but its all worth it in the end. I can raise them by myself, I've done it before. Maybe you could visit more often! That would be lovely, Francis."

"You don't understand what I say, _petit lapin_. I mean, I could never force you to raise a child on your own again. I could never allow you to be in such pain again. The pain of knowing that there is someone out there to help you, but because of their of their stupidity. . . And then by the time I finally realized my mistake, the twins were adults, and you were too far gone for me to have you in my arms again. You had returned to our ways before our partnership, and I followed, hoping for a repeat. Hoping for a second chance. It never came! And here you are. . . trying to make things harder for me to get to you."

Arthur seemed to sober up, releasing the Frenchman, and looking up with pain in his eyes. "I- Francis, I sometimes forget that you could feel as well. I forget that you have a heart. I hate to inform you of this. . . but you could of had your second chance from the beginning of this mess. If you had ever properly asked me to take you back, I would have done it with open arms. If you would have continued playing the game, or asked me to marry you for economical problems, we wouldn't be standing here like this."

Arthur had gone silent, his clear green eyes piercing Francis with the amount of anger and heartbreak that filled them. Francis stared down at the slightly smaller male, wondering what to say.

Arthur sighed, "I should go home. I think we both have a few things we need to think on." As he turned to leave, Francis grabbed onto his arm. This time Arthur turned his head to Francis, "What? Let me go."

"_Non. _You are staying here, Arthur. You're still too drunk to walk home like that." The Frenchman's eyes showed that he meant what he was saying, and that Arthur was going now where.

With another sigh, he allowed Francis to lead him to the foot of the stairs, "You can stay in my room tonight. I'll stay down here." When Arthur began to protest he continued, "You're my guest, you'll be more comfortable there."

Arthur stared into his eyes a moment, before grabbing fistfuls of Francis' hair, and pulling him into a kiss.

* * *

Arthur woke up the next morning, warm and comfortable, but it was ruined bu the near blinding headache. Burying his head into the pillows, he groaned. He made an attempt to pull a blanket over his head, but was stopped by an arm.

His eyes widened as he realized something terrifying. He was in a bed. With another person. And the way the sheets felt against him, he was most likely naked. What the hell did he do last night?

He closed his eyes a few of the drunken memories came to him. Francis. Arguing. Kissing.

Oh. The kiss. That was the last thing he remembered. Shit.

Groaning again, he heard a quiet chuckle. Soon after he felt a hand begin tracing lines on his back. Slowly, as to not aggravate the headache, he turned to look at the man beside him, watching the other grin.

He looked to the man's naked chest, before returning to the other's face, "Francis. . . Did you. . . Did we?"

Francis smirked suddenly, "No. We didn't do anything. Though I was pleasantly surprised when I found out that when you are in a drunken state, you prefer to sleep in the nude." A wide grin spread across the Frenchman's face, as Arthur's turned a bright red.

"Then why are you. . ." He motioned to the face that the sheets were the only things covering Francis.

"Why let you have all the fun, Arthur?"

Arthur's face seemed to turn a darker red, if it was even possible. Francis grabbed Arthur's hand, gently rubbing his cheek against it, before placing his lips on the underside of his wrist. Francis grinned as he felt the proud gentleman shiver, glad he remembered how that spot affected him.

"We have a few things to talk about, _mon lapin_." Francis' blue eyes met Arthur's fearful green ones.

"What do you mean?"

Francis shuffled closer, tilting Arthur's head lightly. His eyes showed complete seriousness, as he leaned close to his face. Arthur could feel the breath of the other on his lips, as he stared into the usually bright and shining blue eyes.

"_Me marier_."

Arthur's eyes widened once more, understanding the french words. Somehow he knew that the Frenchman meant it. He wasn't kidding or joking. He wasn't doing it for any reason besides wanting to. It was shown in his eyes.

"I've always loved you, Francis. . . You know that. But, are we ready for marriage? Are you sure we're ready to go past a partnership?"

Francis' eyes stared at him, the man not speaking a word. Arthur realized that this time he was the one holding them back. Not letting them reach each other.

With a small smile, he answered, "Yes."

Francis breathed in deeply, pulling Arthur into a kiss. When he was released he spoke, "Say it again."

"What?"

"Say it again, Arthur!"

Arthur knew what he meant, and pulled the Frenchman closer, "Yes, I will marry you."

"Again."

It went on like that for a while. In between kisses and touches, Francis demanding him to repeat the words. Slowly, but surely, Francis took the horrid hangover away, and they decided to spend the day in bed, planning a new future for themselves. Giving themselves a second chance.


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur glared at the ring adorning his finger, the two emerald stones glimmering up at him. They were the eyes of the small golden frog that made up the ring, which Francis thought was oh so funny. Francis chose it as his engagement ring to mess with him, he just knew it.

And Francis was there, smirking at him. His arm thrown lazily over Arthur's shoulders, and Arthur felt like throwing it off and storming away, but he couldn't. He had something he and Francis had to do before they could leave.

They were telling the twins that they were getting married.

And Arthur was bloody well terrified. Alfred and Mathew would be the first people they told, and Arthur was nervous. The boys had been devastated and a little angry when Arthur and Francis had broken off their partnership when the boys were still young. Arthur was scared of how the boys might react when they heard the news.

Would they be happy? Angry? Sad?

Would they smile and congratulate the couple? Would they cry? Would they scream that the two were making a mistake?

Arthur took a deep breath and looked to the still smirking Frenchman next to him, "Francis, I am not ready for this."

"It will be alright, _mon cœur_. Besides, when else would we tell them?" Francis removed his arm, and moved to take hold of Arthur's hand.

Arthur looked away once more, mumbling, "On the wedding day."

The couple looked up when the sound of running and loud laughter entered the hallway. The sound meaning Alfred had arrived and was heading towards them. They waited a few moments before the door slammed open and a yelling American entered the room.

"Hey, England! I got your call man, what's up?" The younger nation stepped closer, clearly not paying attention to the two men in front of him. The two didn't get to answer the question before the American was off rambling again.

But, somehow Mathew's quietness broke through to Alfred, "Guys. . . Why are you two so close? Papa?"

Alfred turned to the two older countries, his eyes widening at the way the two were sitting, "Dude. . . Are you holding hands?! England, man, is that. . . Is that a ring on your hand? What the hell. . ."

"_Amérique_, Arthur and I would prefer if you and Mathew sat down for this." Francis said calmly, much calmer than Arthur felt. Arthur rather felt like the earth was about to fall out from beneath him.

The twins sat in the love seat opposite of the couple. Alfred had a confused and worried look on his face, while Mathew just clutched at his polar bear and stared at the two older men.

"We wanted to tell you two first, so that way you don't feel like we just. . . left you out," Arthur spoke, watching his sons' reactions carefully, " Francis and I have spoken about a few things, and we realized how stupid we were in the past."

Arthur was glad when Francis continued where he had left off, "Arthur and I have decided to get married, and attempt to bring a family back together."

Mathew gasped quietly, and clutched his bear tighter. Alfred however had gone quiet, his eyes wide, and his body seemed to be shaking.

"You aren't kidding with us, are you," Mathew asked almost silently.

Arthur shook his head in reply, "No, this isn't a joke. Your father and I are really getting back together."

At that Alfred seemed to snap. The young man rushed forward and pulled Francis and Arthur into a hug. "Do you hear that Mattie! Papa and Dad are getting back together! You guys are getting back together! I'm so happy, oh my god. Thank you! I promise I'll try to keep you guys from breaking up again!"

A loud whining sound came from Mathew as he hurriedly joined in on the hug. Sniffling sounds came from both boys as they hugged their parents, each of them making quiet thank yous.

Arthur and Francis stared at each other, not knowing what to do. Really neither of them had expected this. They had expected a bit. . . calmer reactions.

But, now that was over. Now all they had to do was tell the rest of the world.

* * *

Telling the other countries wasn't as hard as they thought. They mentioned it in the next meeting and the room filled with cheers. Though, that had surprised them.

Something to do with finally being able to get through a meeting without them fighting because of sexual tension. But, they decided to laugh and celebrate it with the others.

Then they realized they had unknowingly caused a chain of events. Marriage proposals began flying through the room. Apparently because if Arthur and Francis decided to get married because they wanted to, everyone else would. The others were waiting for the couple to get together for a while, before anyone would decide it.

according to Feliciano, anyway. Whom had finally answered positively to Ludwig's proposal.

But, everyone in the room agreed, Arthur and Francis were to have the first and best wedding out of all of them. The two countries deserved it.

* * *

Planning the wedding was horrendous. With two such different tastes, and then everyone else trying to butt in and help. It was horrible.

The two just wanted it over. They were suddenly getting very popular, and they didn't like it. Their plans were insane, and they knew next to nothing about their wedding, which was going to happen in a few months.

One thing they knew for sure though, was that they were going to a very _quiet_ place for their honeymoon. Where no one would interrupt them.

Probably an island.

Arthur threatened Francis. They are going to an island.

No ifs ands or buts about it.


	3. Chapter 3

The day was beautiful, the sun was shining, the air was cool, and the sky was clear. It was a perfect day for a wedding.

But, all Arthur could think was how unsure he was. Things seemed to be going downhill for him. He and Francis seemed so different, how could this ever work out? And, why did Francis have to pick the date? Why this date?

April eighth. It was already a sort of anniversary for them.

Arthur sighed, already knowing he was blowing the situation way out of proportion. He could do this. He loves Francis, and Francis loves him. He's pretty sure Francis loves him. Maybe 50% sure Francis loves him.

Sighing, he picked at the silkey blue shirt while glaring at his mirror self. He and Francis were getting married, and he was going to be happy about it, damn it.

"Arthur?"

Arthur turned to see red hair and green eyes that matched his. "Allistor? What are you doing here?"

"I can't miss my little brother's wedding can I," the man's smirk widened, "And congrats on that. I suppose you weren't the one to send me and the other's invitations, huh?"

"No! Are they here too? Oh God, I can't do this, Francis you dumb ass!"

"Calm down, kid. I'm the only one who came," The Scotsman held up his hands, in a seemingly reassuring way, but Arthur only shrank back away from him.

"Oh. Uh. . . Shit, Arthur. I uh. . . forgot about all that mess." The man brought his hands back down, "I'm sorry about that. About all the things in that past too. You know how we. . . We all lost it when Mother disappeared."

Arthur took a deep breath, "It's ok, Allistor, really. I. . . I think you should go take your seat now."

The red-head nodded, heading towards the door, "Oh, and before I go. I visited the French bastard before I came to see you. He looked just as nervous as you do. Don't worry about a thing, kid."

The man left, the door closing quietly behind him. Arthur waited in silence a few moments, before a smile creeped on his face.

Francis was nervous too.

* * *

Arthur followed after Elizabeta, the woman leading him to the main room. She would look behind her every once in a while, a smile in her eyes.

"Lighten up, Arthur. It's your wedding day, you should be smiling. Look happy."

He scowled at the brunette, continuing to follow her quietly.

He began to hear the music, and took a deep breath. He was ready for this. He was. Elizabeta stopped him before he could turn the corner, fixing his hair, and straightening his shirt.

"Don't worry, Arthur. Just see him, and no one else, and you'll be fine. I promise," She smiled before pushing him towards the corner.

Arthur stepped out quickly, before he could convince himself not to. His eyes searched frantically for Francis, even though he knew where the man would be. The Frenchman stood at the altar, a smile on his face, but even Arthur could see the nervousness in his blue eyes.

The room was quiet as he walked closer to the man, but Arthur didn't pay any attention to them. A smile graced his lips as he got closer and closer, and finally made it to where the other man had his hand held out to him.

"Hello, _lapin_."

* * *

It was hours after the wedding had ended, and Francis had yet to stop kissing him. Arthur found himself not really caring. He and Francis had finally did it. They were married. They were going to have a happy ending.

At least, that's what he imagined.

Pushing the pouting Frenchman away, Arthur laughed, "Save it for the honeymoon, Francis. It shouldn't be that much longer."

"But, _lapin_, we are technically on our honeymoon now," Francis smirked, leaning in to kiss his husband again.

"Fine! Fine, Francis! Wait!" Arthur had to push the other off again, "Save it for the honeymoon room. Is that better?"

"Non."

"That's what I thought. You can keep it in your pants for another hour or so." Arthur laughed once more and intertwined his finger's with his husband's.

Watching the two blue and green gems glint off of their hands, Arthur felt happier than he had in centuries.


	4. Chapter 4

Arthur felt like he was going bloody insane. They tried, and tried, and tried, and yet there was still no child. Nothing.

He had tested himself once a week for months now, and he was starting to get depressed. And a little angry. Feliciano was already pregnant, why isn't he?

Was something wrong with him? Maybe he was doing the spell wrong? No, he had done the spell on the Italian, and it worked. Was he to old, then? He and Francis were quite older than the others. . .

This would be the last time, he decided. The last time he will read out that spell and point his magic at himself. The last time he would try for something that didn't even seem to be coming. He was growing tired of it. He was pretty sure Francis was tired too.

Pulling out the book once more, he turned to the familiar page. Leaning back in the chair, he began reading quietly. His voice didn't fill the room as it once did, at some point sounding like Alfred, and now sounding more like Mathew.

His body began to glow with a yellow light, before centering on his chest and disappearing. He leaned his head back, counting the seconds until the spell would tell him what he wished to know. Seconds turned to minutes, and Arthur stayed still in the silent room. His breathing evened, feeling himself begin to fall asleep.

Then he felt something different. He didn't remember feeling it before. Opening his eyes in fear, he looked down, his body suddenly stiffening. A purple glow emitted from his stomach, shining weakly in the darkness of the room.

His eyes moved quickly back to the book, knowing what the color meant, be he had to make sure. His hand lightly touched the page, following the text to what he wanted, needed, to know. Purple. Pregnant country.

The book landed on the ground with a loud thump. His eyes stared blankly at where the book had been seconds before. He couldn't believe it. It was happening. He was pregnant.

"Arthur? Arthur what was that noise? Did one of your spells mess up again," Francis' voice called from the top of the stairs, a joking tone in his voice. The Frenchman noticed something was wrong, and sprinted down the stairs, looking at Arthur with worry, "Arthur? Arthur what's wrong. _Lapin? Êtes-vous d'accord?"_

Green eyes finally met startled blue ones, "It was purple."

"Arthur, what-"

"Purple, Francis! It was purple," he yelled, laughing suddenly. Tears dripped down his cheeks as he laughed, pointing at the book.

Francis, terrified for his husband's sanity, lifted the book to hopefully figure out what was happening. His eyes widened when he read the page, having to reread what he saw. "You- you're. . ." his voice cut off, looking back into tearful green eyes.

The Englishman nodded and held his arms out, a silent request. One Francis couldn't refuse. He pulled his smaller husband into a tight embrace, laughing along with the gripped each other, laughing and crying in each other's arms.

* * *

The first months were always the worst. At least, that's what Francis had always heard. He couldn't help but agree with the sentiment, now living with a very cranky and ill Englishman. They had been so happy when they found out. That was until the morning sickness hit.

The Brit had cursed Francis in every language possible, even in languages he didn't even know the other man knew. But, what would he expect from a former pirate?

Then the cravings started. Arthur started asking for the strangest things, Francis happy that most of the foods were French. It started to get terrifying though when Arthur started threatening with castration when the Frenchman tried to get out of cooking.

And then the extreme emotions. One moment Arthur was laughing and happy as could be, and the next he was screaming and crying, asking for Francis to hold him. Some days Francis could be minding his own business, and suddenly Arthur would be there attacking him. In good and bad ways.

Either way, Francis didn't think he was going to survive this pregnancy.

* * *

_**Months later:**_

They had some trouble with names for the child, Arthur not being in the right of mind when they were trying to decide. Whenever Francis would ask, Arthur would wrap his arms around his round stomach, and glare.

"It's a girl. I know it is. Why the fuck would I need to pick out a boy's name."

"Because, Arthur, we won't know for sure what the child is until it's here," Francis tried to reason with him.

"HER NAME WILL BE SOPHIA FAE BONNEFOY! IT'S A GIRL FRANCIS! I KNOW IT IS!" Arthur would often let anger get to him easier, his face turning red and eyes turning livid. Then he wouldn't talk to Francis for days, until he would go to the Frenchman crying and apologizing.

Francis kept boy names to himself, knowing his husband would not listen to his words. Not to mention he didn't want to stress Arthur out too much, not knowing how much strain he could put on the unborn child.

* * *

_**Final Month:**_

_**"FRANCIS FUCKING BONNEFOY WHEN THIS IS OVER I WILL MURDER YOU!"**_

_To be continued. . . _


	5. Chapter 5

_**"FRANCIS FUCKING BONNEFOY WHEN THIS IS OVER I WILL MURDER YOU!"**_

The smaller man's back arched dramatically as he screamed, and Francis could only wonder how his body was still that flexible while pregnant. Arthur's face was red, eyes squeezed closed in pain. His breath came rapidly as his body shook.

Arthur's hand gripped Francis', his nails digging into the skin roughly. Francis could feel every bone in his hand be squeezed tightly, and he feared that before this was over his hand would be shattered.

That was luckily when the shaking stopped and Elizabeta burst into the room. She took one look at Arthur and sent a worried glance to Francis, "Out. Now."

She quickly tugged Francis' hand out of Arthur's, causing the smaller to scream in alarm. She pushed the Frenchman from the room, and before she closed the door, she smiled at him, but Francis could see the worry in her eyes. "Don't worry, Francis. It'll be fine. I'm sure of it."

And then the door was closed in his face, but he continued to hear the screaming as he went to the sitting room to wait it out.

* * *

Half an hour later, Francis was startled by Mathew slamming the front door open, and dragging a crying American behind him. Mathew had an irritated scowl on his face, dragging his younger twin behind him. His scowl immediately changed to a worried look when he saw Francis.

"Is Dad ok," he asked loudly, finally hearing Alfred's wailing cease. Alfred had actually gone completely still, seeming to not be breathing.

"I. . ." Francis sighed, "I don't know. Elizabeta kicked me out." He looked to the twins trying to judge if he should mention some of what had happened, "The screaming stopped about ten minutes ago. Every once in a while there will be a crash from upstairs. . . but I have no idea what is happening up there."

Mathew frowned, releasing his brother, and moving to hug his father, "I'm sure It's ok. Elizabeta knows what she's doing."

Alfred joined his brother in the hug, "You look tired Papa. You should rest. Dad's probably gonna need you later, so you should be well rested when he does."

The older countries were surprised that something that actually made sense had come from Alfred. Francis sighed once more, messing with Alfred's hair.

"Thank you, _Amérique_, but I don't think I can rest until I know. I need to know if he's ok. I don't think. . . I don't think I could live with myself if he lost himself in this."

The twins stayed silent, not expecting something so dark to come from the normally light-hearted country. They didn't want to admit to it, but they feared for their father too. They didn't want to lose him now. Not now or ever.

* * *

It was a few hours later that it happened. A few hours of pacing and worrying and crying, it finally happened. Elizabeta came downstairs, looking tired and sporting a few new bruises.

She gave Francis a look,"You should have told me how small he had gotten Francis. You should have told me, and this probably would have been easier." She sighed, "In his anxiety, and fear, he fought back, and hard. He shot me across the room a few times. I finally got him calm enough to convince him asleep."

Francis felt fear strike his heart, "Is he-"

"He seems to still be with us. He's upstairs resting, and just talking to the baby," She smiled and went to the door, "Congrats, It's a girl. I'll be back in a few days to check on them."

The door closed quietly, as to not wake the two sleeping countries on the couch. Francis didn't seem to care as he raced up the stairs, to where he knew Arthur was laying.

When he quietly slid the door open, and slipped into the room, he was struck with memories of times past.

_ Arthur stood in the field, holding the tiny country in his arms, humming quietly. He made quiet promises to the child, promising to protect him and love him forever. Francis stood in the shade of the nearby trees, holding what he found to be the other's twin. Mathew had his wavy golden hair, with one little curl flying into the air. But, the little one seemed to be shaped more like the younger country in the field, which was what caused the realization. _

_ Days later he revealed the other child to Arthur, watching the man's face light up in happiness. Arthur wanted to raise Mathew too, Francis realized, and he was perfectly ok with that. It gave him a reason to get closer to Arthur it seemed. Then Francis met little Alfred. With hair that matched the Brit's, he was surprised to see his own blue eyes staring back at him. He had fallen in love with the toddlers at once._

_ Eventually, they made it official. They signed with their leaders, and made a partnership. They agreed to raise the two countries together, and whatever else they did, well, it didn't matter to the leaders. The two fell together, before they could even realize what had happened. _

He returned to his senses, shaking off the memories. He saw the scene again, except this time Arthur was sitting on a bed, holding a tiny thing wrapped in a pink blanket. Arthur's eyes shown with a happy light, his humming barely reaching Francis.

Francis stepped across the room, trying not to disturb the moment. Spots of blonde hair, chubby cheeks, and wide blue eyes with green flecks met his sight. The little girl cooed happily at Francis, her tiny hand gripping his offered finger.

Arthur stopped his song to look at the Frenchman, "I told you she was a girl."

Francis smiled, having a feeling that everything would be ok. "Hello, Sophia."


	6. Chapter 6

Arthur held the small child to his hip, swaying around the room as he hummed. The girl chewed lightly on her thumb, seeming content to be swung around by her father. He smiled, watching the girl feel around her teeth, that too her must have appeared magically.

"Arthur, you really shouldn't let her suck her thumb. She could get stuck on it," Francis said from his seat, happy to watch his husband and child dance through the room.

"She isn't sucking on it! She has to get used to those teeth somehow," Arthur laughed quietly as the child's eyes looked everywhere before finally landing on her French father. The child smiled silently, her hands reaching towards the man.

Arthur sighed, handing his daughter off to Francis, the other smiling at the quiet child.

"Come here, mon petit," He pulled the child into his lap, "Now, let's try this again. Say Papa."

Sophia blinked at him, shaking her head a moment later. Clearly she understood them, but they couldn't get her to speak. She would always respond, but never did any words come out, causing fear for her parents. Usually a young country would already be speaking by her age, but she refused.

"Please, Sophia? Just say Papa. Or Daddy even."

She shook her head once more, before pushing herself away from her father and toddling away. She was tired of people asking her to say things.

Francis sighed, looking to his husband. Arthur smiled and shrugged, turning to follow after the escaping child.

* * *

They knew she could talk. They knew it. She just wouldn't speak outright. Considering the only reason they knew was because they heard her singing. A song that almost caused Arthur to faint hearing it, but he was glad either way that words were coming out of his daughter's mouth.

They could hear it then. The same song. The couple sat on the covered patio, watching Sophia sit in the grass and sing. Her hands moved around, grabbing grass and flowers, apparently trying to make something out of the objects.

_"Please don't lose yourself,_

_Please don't let go,_

_I don't know what I will do,_

_If I had to lose you too._

_Please, dear, I love you,_

_You're everything to me._

_Please don't lose yourself._

_Please._

_Please don't let go."_

Arthur sighed, rubbing his temples lightly. He wondered where she had heard the song. It was nearly driving him insane wondering. The last time he had heard it was. . . a very dark time for him, and he did not wish to think on it.

But, he didn't dare tell the girl to stop singing it, she was using words! He couldn't stop that achievement once it had arrived.

Francis looked worriedly across to him, giving the other man understanding looks. He somewhat knew what Arthur was putting himself through.

"Don't worry, Arthur. She'll get through this phase eventually."

* * *

The other countries had decided for them. It was time to meet the two little cities that seemed to be picking up hearts where ever they went. Arthur and Francis couldn't really just say no, Feliciano and Ludwig's son Kristof would be there too (Ludwig had refused to call his son Pio even though it was the child's name).

So, they had dressed little Sophia up. A little blue dress with a white ribbon around the middle. Her hair was pulled up into a small bun, hidden by a little white hat. She was positively adorable, and ready to be shown to the rest of the world.

When they stepped into the meeting room, Sophia was sandwiched between them, her little hands gripping her parent's fingers. Her blue green eyes searched the room excitedly, knowing that she had never been there before.

Several gasps came from the room, many of the countries running up to see the tiny blonde. She smiled and greeted them silently, acting as if she were born for people to be surrounding her. The group made sounds at the girl, Aw's and How Cutes, flying from all around.

Feliciano, however, screamed the moment he saw her. He backed away, hands covering his mouth, and eyes filled with tears. Arthur had moved to grab Sophia, not knowing what the Italian would do, but the girl moved away from him, going to stand directly in front of the man, staring into his eyes.

The two stayed silent a moment, staring at each other. Slowly the girl reached up to pull the hat off of her head, followed by her curls being released from the bun. Looking into the Italian's surprised gaze, she spoke her first sentence, "I'm sorry." She then turned away, heading to her father, with a silent demand to be held.

The room had gone silent, the countries staring between the now silent child, and the crying Italian. Gilbert seemed to be the first to realize what happened, moving to help Feliciano from the room, Ludwig following after.

The others seemed to go back to normal, cooing and making sounds at Sophia. Even Lovino was in the group, getting permission from the child to hold her. He held the girl close, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like "Thank you." After getting a smile from her, Lovino grinned, looking much like his twin. He handed the girl back to her father, stepping quickly to his Spanish husband.

A loud, "We are going to have children," followed the Italian, the Spaniard suddenly making a terrified face.

Sophia giggled loudly, clapping, as if she understood clearly what Lovino had said.

Eventually Feliciano and the two Germans entered the room, the Italian holding a sleepy little boy. His dirty blond hair stuck up in spots, one of his cheeks pink and covered in slobber. The child must have just woken up from his nap.

"Now that we've gotten everything under control, it is time to start the actual meeting," Ludwig stated, clearly not taking any questions or objections.

* * *

There are a few things in this chapter and the previous that ties into a One-Shot I've written, and will post soon. This one-shot contains some history before this story happens, but it does not have to be read. It has very dark themes, and is very triggering to those who wish to know more. I will be posting this one-shot soon, but at the time being it has nothing to do with this story, and anything that ties in with it will be explained. The story is called Please Don't Lose Yourself, for those who want to read it. It only contains mentions of FrUk. There will be several warnings.

Thank you.

**-Becca**


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